


Who is the fool now?

by AlyxStar



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyxStar/pseuds/AlyxStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You judged her too harshly, too soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who is the fool now?

You remember the day she all but tumbled into Jorrvaskr, garbed in bloodied scraps of what you presumed to be the remains of leather armour. She was the most unkempt Altmer you’d laid eyes on (to this day you’ve yet to meet another who looked as wild as she did back then), anxious to investigate the Companions, searching for her life’s calling. You thought her lower than a welp back then, a waste of everyone’s time to train.   
But she surprised you during her initial testing, when she abandoned her weapons in favour of pummeling Vilkas with her bare hands, managing to knock loose a tooth before he deemed her a fighter, if a good bit wet behind the ears in her technique.

  
You remember watching her development carefully, wondering about all the “complicated” matters that often drew her away from Jorrvaskr for weeks on end. Was she a soldier in the Civil War? Had she chosen to aid the Dragonborn in his or her travels? Had bandits sent her to the halls of Sovngarde during her longest absence of three months?   
It annoyed you, how easily she could slip from Jorrvaskr and vanish for so long. It  _disgusted_  you. Did she have no concept of loyalty? Of being part of a pack? Did she even know you were all waiting to pounce upon her at the slightest mistake? But no, that wasn’t right. The Old Man was fond of the Altmer lass, and somewhere along the way she had managed to secure the respect of both Farkas and Vilkas. But not yours. Never yours, you had sworn. She was too tame for your liking. There was no fire to her, no wild, no predator.   
Then the biggest shock of all - she caught Skjor’s attention. He had thought her worthy of the Gift, of the Beast Blood. Were it anyone else, you would have laughed at them, at their idiocy, would have called them a fool. It was Skjor, though, and so you stilled your tongue and grudgingly accepted the role of her Bearer. It would be your blood to usher her into the life of a werewolf, should she accept.

  
But she had refused the Gift. It infuriated you - she was another pathetic weakling who did not understand nor appreciate the joy of the Hunt. Were it not for Skjor’s unflinching respect for her, you would have killed her before she left the Underforge, ripped her in two with your jaws and feasted on her innards.   
Looking back you realise now that you were wrong to judge her so. You missed what Skjor could see, what he tried to make you aware of before the Silver Hand killed him. She had a  _reason_  behind her refusal.

  
Your only regret is that it has taken  **this**  to open your eyes. The earth-shaking Shout, the answering roar, the dragon caught in Dragonsreach according to  _her_  plan. The same dragon she sits upon, at the juncture where that long neck meets the back, her grim expression hidden behind the steel helmet she fixes into place, securing warhammer to her back and sword to her hip.   
 _She_  is the Dragonborn. She is the one flying to meet Alduin in the prophesised battle to seal the fate of all in Tamriel.

  
Now you understand. She didn’t refuse the Gift due to weakness. She refused it in the name of strength. For the one destined to clash in battle with the World-Eater - to clash with  _every dragon to roam the land and sky_  - should not have her mind clouded by the base desires and instincts of the beast. It was a distraction she could not afford to entertain with stakes so high.   
"Aela? She’ll be back. She’s tougher than a bear mother protecting her young." You fix a scathing glare to your face and ready the bite of sarcasm as you turn to face Vilkas, retorting that you know she will return with glory and head held high for all to see, for the stories they will sing in her name for years to come.   
Deep down, though, far beyond the reaches of your wolf, you fear for the young Altmer female. You fear she is racing to her doom with the burden of countless lives weighted on her slender shoulders.

  
You fear you will never have the chance to apologise for your mistakes and harsh judgement.   
You thought everyone else the idiot for respecting the Altmer. But you see it now. You know it now.   
 _You_  - Aela, Huntress of the Companions - are the fool.


End file.
